Gravity with gravity

Parrot does not understand gravity. Whenever he drops something, he runs to the edge of wherever to give it a good sideways look, a look with gravity. You know, that look that needs the spinning of the whole body, the exact opposite of casual peripheral vision. So he does this for about a minute and a half, in a way that would suggest that he has never seen something go straight down before, as he "looks at gravity", as we say. God knows what goes on inside his adorable head. Now, I tie all his toys to the edge of the cage with string so that they do not fall so far and I stop losing them, and the looks only last a few seconds.

Bird Skype Take I

Skype with Bird. Chittagong to Doha.

Hatch-day!

Happy Hatch-day Parrolis! 

Across the Persian Gulf,

the Indian Ocean

and the Bay of Bengal,

we are still flock.

all hail this awesome creature! 

Falcons, not fans

I am going to start an anti-stupidity campaign called "Falcons, not Fans". I am tired of reading forum entries about parrotlets that fly into working fans and get injured, or die instantly. People: do not have fans if you have birds. I am not sure birds are supposed to die by fan anyway. I think they are supposed to fly into the horizon escorted by a great white falcon made of clouds and fireflies, yes, a benevolent turuk makto of sorts.

It is funny, because when you tell people you have a parrot, the first thing they ask is "how long does he live"? Forever, I hope - how long will you live? So many people that should fly at speed into a working fan...  

Lime + coconut =

You put the lime in the coconut? Check.

 Echo-chirp! 

Being Migratory

The morning after our arrival to Qatar, Parrolito was all chirps and jumps. I was a mess of sleep hangover proportions for a week and a half. Migratory species for the win. Now, migrating a 24 gr. bird in a steel bird of, say, 250,000,000 gr. is the essence of cool.

Not to scale

The international flight went very well. I was a nervous wreck, thinking of the poor bird in the cargo hold for 12 hours, but I suspect that he was either sleeping, or torturing some poor puppy with his best soprano rendition of "do you want your broccoli?", in a loop, forever.

Parrot is my co-pilot

Although United Airlines informs on their website that they can carry "household birds" in cabin for domestic flights, we figured out early on that this meant budgies and lovebirds. Rather than trying to make sense of this, the only way to go about it was to call our bird a lovebird at check-in and during flight from San Francisco to New York. Budgies have such a long tail that I was anxious about meeting the random airline employee who knew his way around "household birds". Parrolito made an adequate lovebird, although given the insane territorial nature of these things, I feel that parrotlets might also be called hatebirds.